so I revolve around your world, do I?
the gravitational pull within your cosmos?
believe what you want,
dearest,
but I fear the truth is shinier than the
stars above your supposedly impassioned head.
here I am,
in the corner of the center of your world,
relegated to afterthought, vague memory, the fabric of a lingering dream.
I starve for your attention while you fool me with galaxies.
well, simply leave me in the corner of the center of your world,
dearest,
in my tiny niche, my nook, my cranny,
and let me enjoy the real stars.

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